“I don’t know how,” I said, hurrying to the warehouse and mounting the porch. Someone had pulled the shutters on the large window. Against the candlelight from the room, their slats formed bars across my body. My eyes a bright stripe, my mouth a dark line, my chest a ripple of ribs. “I don’t know, but,” I whispered, “I will help.” I looked back at him. “I have to.”

William’s mouth softened. Without a word, he disappeared inside.

After several minutes, an idea struck me. I turned and ran back down the porch steps. I was several yards away when the warehouse door opened behind me.

“Hey, Cobane,” Hosea called, contemptuously. “Leaving already?”

I turned. “I’m not leaving,” I said. “I’m retrieving supplies, so I can help.” I indicated my schoolbag, which lay in the street covered with dust.

“Is that right?” He thought I was deluding myself.

“Yes,” I hissed. I bent, snatched up my bag and stomped back to the porch. All those years of studying—why, oh why have I not read a single book on healing?

He stepped out of the warehouse and down two steps, stopping just above me. “Listen, I don’t want you here, but William makes a good point. If he has to guard you outside all night, we’ll be shorthanded.” I held my breath, sensing he was about to relent.

“You’re to wear gloves and a mask at all times. Robin will give you a bottle of antiseptic. You’re to use it liberally.”

I frowned, suddenly realizing that whatever the sickness was, Hosea believed it to be contagious.

“William is your master now, until I say otherwise,” he went on. “You don’t leave his side.”

William came forward to stand over me like a shadow.

“Cobane,” Hosea said, regaining my attention. “Are we clear?”

“Yes,” I managed. “Wear the mask, follow William, stay in sight.”

The Sick Room

THE SICK ROOM

I strained to see around William’s bulk as he led me into the sick room. The space was large but, somehow, it felt small. A low-pitched roof and a dirt floor. Tables of every size and splinter, laid with dark mounds, smooth shapes under blankets, which stank. I sniffed, trying to place the smell through my mask. Fleshy and salty, I decided, like wet fish.